


love of my life

by Arzani



Category: Black Sails
Genre: But a lot of comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Modern AU, Multi, actually silver/flint, also talking in the dark, because it's best, but the other pairings are implied, past Hamilton/Flint, so much hurt and pain and angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-09-28 03:06:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10067723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arzani/pseuds/Arzani
Summary: James couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t sleep. They both couldn’t sleep and it was driving John insane. The whole ordeal was so utterly and helplessly maddening, and it didn’t help that a small voice in the back of his mind kept whispering he had no right. Had no right at all to feel left out, to feel like a burden, to begin to believe he was just a second choice. He snorted at the laughter that followed – in the back of his mind. The second choice? Damn that. No, he wasn’t even a second choice, he was a third choice. One who was picked when nothing else was left.





	

James couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t sleep. They both couldn’t sleep and it was driving John insane. The whole ordeal was so utterly and helplessly maddening, and it didn’t help that a small voice in the back of his mind kept whispering he had no right. Had no right at all to feel left out, to feel like a burden, to begin to believe he was just a second choice. He snorted at the laughter that followed – in the back of his mind. The second choice? Damn that. No, he wasn’t even a second choice, he was a third choice. One who was picked when nothing else was left.

A bitter sob escaped his throat and he was glad Madi wasn’t around. She would have scolded him. Told him to get off the balcony, inside the house, where it wasn’t as freezing as it was outside and talk with James. But John doubted talking would help. He doubted anything would help. Why was Madi not here?

Blue eyes grazed the lights coming from the street below. There were lanterns, some neon signs and the lit windows of the bar across the street. Muted music wavered up to him, mixed with drunken laughter coming from some drunk teenagers. There had been a time John was happily content with being one of them. That had been before he had helplessly fallen for James Flint. James McGraw.

A shiver run down his spine, when a gust of wind tousled his hair up and made him freeze. Automatically his arms tried to shelter himself from it, rising and wrapping around his frame. It didn’t help, the coldness in him too strong to be negotiated by the night air. His head dropped back against the wall he sat on, some of his dark curls falling into his face, yet he didn’t push them away. Why bothering? No one else bothered.

Could Madi not have waited with that business trip for another week?

It was unfair to think, especially as he knew she couldn’t change it, would have if there had been a chance. Instead she was at a conference in Barcelona and John was alone with his gnawing thoughts and painful feelings. He could hear her voice in his head, could see how she would frown at his state, sitting in the freezing night air of early November, in nothing but a shirt and some light slacks.

_“You’re thinking too much John Silver. You’re no lesser man than any of us.”_

How he wished he could believe those words. How he wished she was here, next to him, saying out loud what his mind conjured into the depths of the night. But she wasn’t and he was painfully aware of the part of his leg that was missing. He was also painfully aware of the warmth next to him that was missing, the body he craved for, who was momentarily mourning another man, another couple. Another lover.

Tears started to prick in the edges of his eyes and he wiped them away furiously, hating how utterly weak he was. Pulling his limps even tighter to his body, John closed the outside world out. There was no one here to watch, so he easily gave into the vulnerability that he managed to mask so effortlessly during the day. Arms wrapped around his crouched legs, he wasn’t even aware how much he shivered, or about his already blue fingers and lips.

Thomas Hamilton. Miranda Hamilton. Sometimes he wished to be able to hate them, for the pain they created even in their death. But he couldn’t, couldn’t for the sake of the man he loved, who once loved. Them. Not him, or Madi. Them alone and no one else.

It was Thomas’ anniversary tomorrow and since a few days now, James had started to shut everyone out. A constant shadow of grief hid in his green eyes, barely there and still too visible for both Madi and himself. James didn’t sleep with them, didn’t sleep at all, but thumbed through books connected to his past with the Hamiltons. A sudden urge had befallen John, a sudden urge to throw them into the fire. Only Madi’s reproachful gaze had stopped him from doing so. Now, though, he wished he had had the courage of going through with it, to just get any emotion out of James other than grief. And if it meant to be hated by him forever, John wouldn’t have minded.

Another muffled sob left his mouth, chocked at the thought of what had happened yesterday. Why was he so completely and utterly _weak?_

James had sought him out. At first, John had been confused, then happy by the change of James’ demeanor. For days, it was the first interaction between them that had been initiated by James and not by either him or Madi. Then he had realized James had wanted to talk about Thomas and Miranda, about his past and even though it shouldn’t have surprised him it still had. He had tried to listen, had tried to smile, yet after a while John hadn’t been able to stand it anymore. Fleeing from the scene he had excused himself, leaving James dumbfounded and confused. Since then they hadn’t talked, hadn’t interacted anymore. John had spent the night in a bar and when he had come back James was asleep. The next morning James was gone, and he was left behind, alone with the guilt of not only being a coward but an asshole as well.

Why was all he had been able to hear, when James had talked about Thomas and Miranda, had been compliments and endearings? Confessions of love and grief and what was once beautiful but now gone. A time James had treasured so much that he was attaching his whole life onto it, and letting it drag him down, without giving anyone the chance to lift him up again.

Why had Thomas Hamilton and Miranda Hamilton been so utterly and thoroughly perfect that John wondered why James was wasting his time with someone like him? A broken cripple, one leg gone and through too much shit to ever lead a normal life. A petty crook and a thief, a liar and dreamer.

Tears streamed down his face, one after another, mercilessly, but hidden from the world by his arms over his knees and his upper body bent down. To top all of it James was still gone.

Madi would never forgive him if something happened to James. He would never forgive himself if something happened to James. Why was he sitting here, crying, instead of looking where the love of his life was?

The love of his life. He wished to hear it out of James’ mouth for once, too. But that was probably reserved for Thomas and Miranda.

He couldn’t contain his sobs or his tears and therefore didn’t notice the door to the balcony sliding open. John was completely unaware of the eyes that grazed his huddled-in frame, the sadness that his posture elicited and the retreating form, until that form stepped back outside, a blanket in its hands.

The fabric enveloped him, caressed his naked arms and made him look up. His blue eyes, damped by the tears, were met with green ones, clouded by concern. Without a single word, James reached for his arms to free them from his legs. He placed them next to John’s body, moved from there to his legs to tug them away from his chest and eventually made sure only John’s head poked out the blanket. Having no energy left, John let James proceed, but when the other man was done, tears began to swell again, making their way down his cheeks.

He was not even a coward and an asshole, unable to be a shoulder for James, when he needed it most, he was also so weak that his lover, the man who grieved and mourned, saw the need to tend to him. Him! Who was perfectly fine.

“James,” he rasped, voice husky from the tears he had shed. His attempt to free himself from the blanket to reach out failed miserably, his limbs a mixed-up tangle. Before he could react properly, he felt hands at his cheeks, wiping away some tears, before James leaned down and kissed every salty pearl off his lips.

The sensation was overwhelming, and left him numb, before he finally managed to free his hand. The fingers dug into the button-up shirt on James’ body, tugging it and unable to decide whether to push him away or pull him closer. They settled on just clinging to him like he was driftwood in the ocean, no shore in reach.

Another shudder went down John’s spine when they let go, and he couldn’t say if it was out of coldness or something else. Staring at James helplessly, John couldn’t muster anything to say. Instead he watched and waited, mind numb, or too full with too many emotions. Meanwhile James had settled, sitting in front of John, his legs next to his body, to be as close as possible.

“I’m sorry for running away,” James finally said, after the silence had become too heavy and the deep rumble of words made John gulp. The lump in his throat stayed nonetheless and answering hurt. Hurt and hurt and hurt.

“I should be sorry. I left you in the worst possible moment and I am sorry,” John managed to say, every syllable sounding like a choke. Something in his head burnt. It emanated through his whole body, consuming him whole. It was probably guilt. “How can you still be so close to me without being completely disgusted?”

“What are you talking about? John, I love you!”

The wish to believe those words was strong, yet the voice in the back of his mind whispered and became louder and louder. _It was not enough._ Love sometimes was not enough. Not when there were others he loved more.

Dropping his head again, avoiding direct eye-contact with James, John wished he was able to drown that voice. Bind it to a stone and sink it in the deepest part of the ocean. But this damn thing knew how to swim. Instead he was just drowning himself.

“John, look at me!” a voice tried to reach him, but it needed the calloused fingers on his chin, the warmth and the force of James’ grip to make him look up. He wished he could stop making James sad, yet all he inflicted was pain. The green in James’ eyes shimmered achingly. It was so plain and genuine. Why could he not stop?

“You shouldn’t love me,” he started to speak, not really knowing what he wanted to achieve with the words. Maybe to make James leave for good, and become a happier person without him? The thought of losing James was heart-breaking and he pulled the blanket a little closer around his body. Like a security, to protect him from the truth. A life without James, as well as a life without Madi, was nothing he ever wanted to endure. Yet, maybe it was for the best?

“What?” The rasp came from James, shocked, but John knew he needed to keep on talking or else he never would. Never would be able to go through with this.

“I’m a cripple, a one-legged monster. A thief and criminal and you… you deserve better than me. You deserve someone like… like… Thomas and Mi-“

He was stopped in the middle of his sentence with a sharp slap, his head flying to the side and his cheek pulsing. Blue and wide were his eyes, trying to process what just had happened, while some heavy pants sounded over him, chest heaving.

“Never. Say. That. Again!” James pressed out between gritted teeth. John knew this voice, the suppressed anger. He deserved it, he was aware of so much. It was why he wasn’t even bothering to press his hand against his swelling skin, just kept on looking to the side, regarding the stone ground of the balcony. It was gray like the night. Cold like his soul. Heavy like his heart.

“Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” was spat, yet the more often James repeated it, the more his voice was filled with panic. “Fuck! John? John, I’m sorry! Listen, I’m –“

But John interrupted him, without looking up, only raised his voice enough to silence James. He couldn’t bear it, the pleading and panic. Couldn’t, didn’t, wasn’t aware how… “Stop!”

The request, order? was followed immediately, leaving a lingering silence in its wake. Now would be the time to push himself up from the floor, step inside and go. But where, John had no idea where to go. There was no other place than here he felt he belonged to. Here, with James and Madi. No matter both seemed so far away, for complete different reasons, this was his home. They were his family.

“John?” It was barely a whisper, but something in the word managed for John to look up. Yet, only when he met James’ face, the green of his eyes, the freckles, the trimmed beard and the mouth, lips so kissable and warm, he realized what it was. Fear. The plain and simple fear of losing him. John. James feared of losing him!

Without thinking he threw his arms around James’ neck, pulled him down to his size, to seek comfort in the crook of his neck. The smell that hit him was both thrilling and soothing. A flavor of smoke, obviously from a bar, mixed with the shower gel James used. And then there was something else, something so distinctively the sea, that John was always reminded of crashing waves against a shore.

His heart beat against his ribcage, his chest pressed against James’, feeling his heat even through the blanket. Strong arms wrapped around his back, holding him, almost desperately while he felt… something wet hitting his scalp.

“James? Are you crying?” John mumbled into the skin and the arms around his body only gripped a little harder.

“No…”

It was a lie. Of course, it was a lie, but with the number of tears John had cried in the last few hours he wouldn’t and couldn’t blame James for doing the same. He wasn’t even able to point that out.

They reveled in the comfort spent by each other, by their bodies this close, no matter John was aware they both had questions which needed to be answered. The night however was long and they took their sweet time, before they even gave the smallest glimpse of thinking about letting go again. When they did, after how long John didn’t even dare to estimate, they both shifted and in the end John found himself pressed with his back against James’ chest, arms around his frame and the blanket warming them both.

“I’m sorry I hit you,” John heard James mumble into his hair, one of his thumbs stroking the swelling softly. The caress made his skin tingle. As a reply, he placed his own over it, while the other intertwined his fingers with James’ free hand.

“You had your reasons.”

His voice was low, mind drifting back to the words that had been said. Thomas and Miranda. _Never say that again!_ Their past was like a curse.

“Yes, I did. But not like you assume.” James’ voice wavered up to him and brought him back to reality with a soft but demanding tug. Tilting his head, John was inclined to listen. “John, have you any idea how much it hurts to hear you speak of yourself like this? How much Madi and I worry about your self-perception? You changed! You’re not that person of your past anymore. You’re not that little thief anymore who lied and betrayed. And you’re not a cripple and god forbid, if you’re a monster so am I!”

The words went through him and hit deep down at his soul. Every single word was like a force, knocking down the walls he had built up over so many years. They left him crumble and helpless, stripped him naked until he was bare. And then, when he was at his most vulnerable there was James, picking him up softly, cradling and carrying him, making him whole again. And again he cried, cried and cried, but this time the tears didn’t hurt. Didn’t pierce. Didn’t make him feel weak, only loved.

Calloused fingers stroke his cheeks, his neck and his lips, while he was held in James’ arms. He shivered and sobbed, knowing he was looking horrible and not the slightest attractive. But James’ nose was buried in his black mess of hair nonetheless, soft lips pressed kisses onto his scalp and the coldness from before was slowly driven out by the warmth he felt. By the warmth he was granted.

When he maintained his composure at least a little again, his tears slowed down in falling, James went on with speaking. The timbre of his voice was soft, a little rasped and full of love. And this time John believed that the love was also directed at him. As it would be directed at Madi, would she be here.

“Thomas and Miranda… John they were wonderful and I loved them, utterly and completely. I will never stop loving them. But they are death and you and Madi, you’re alive! And I need you, alive and well and happy, to be just that. I need the present, not the past. I realized this much during the last few days. I realized I should focus on you, and when I did I realized what I left behind. How I left you behind. When you left, yesterday, I called Madi and she yelled at me.” At this point John could hear a little laughter out of James’ voice. It made him smile. Oh, how he could imagine Madi’s yelling. “I needed that yelling. I seriously did. To make Miranda yell at me… I had to do something utterly stupid to make Miranda yell at me, but Madi just did.”

Silence followed that speech, and John could hear James’ deep breaths, mixed with the sounds of the night. They became more and more distinct. His own breathing became louder. More present. Then he was given a squeeze in James’ arms.

“I loved Miranda and Thomas, but they weren’t perfect. No one is perfect. They were no more perfect than you and Madi are, no more and no less. Just different. But my love for you is all the same. Undivided and all the same. You’re the love of my life, just like Madi is. Just like Miranda and Thomas had been.”

“Tell me about them,” John finally mumbled, when James’ words faded again, into the night that slowly, slowly turned to dawn already. This time he was content not to run. To listen, and memorize and remember with the man he loved. “Tell me about all their faults and mistakes, and tell me about all my faults and mistakes. Tell me, James. Tell me.”

And James did, letting stories rise and fall, making them laugh quietly until his voice was hoarse, and John drifted to sleep in his arms.

“Good night, my love. Good night, John.”

**Author's Note:**

> Meet me on [tumblr](http://arzani92.tumblr.com/)


End file.
